


Eggs

by mustachio



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:30:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustachio/pseuds/mustachio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malik should know better than to make the wrong kind of eggs, Altaïr should know better than to complain. Each of them will have to pay for their mistakes in a very satisfying way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eggs

"Malik, what are these?"

He doesn't look up from the newspaper or his coffee at Altaïr's question. He's in no mood to deal with Altaïr's stupidity and it isn't hard to figure out that that's where this conversation is heading.

"What are _what_ , Altaïr?"

His tone has a harsher edge than he'd meant for it to have and it's with a sigh and a roll of his eyes that he finally does spare Altaïr a small glance. Altaïr is poking at his breakfast with his fork, expression twisted into what can only be described as baffled disgust. Malik glares at the man, although Altaïr is far too busy prodding at his food to actually notice it. In retrospect, Malik should have seen this coming. He should have known better than to try and do something nice for Altaïr and expect some form of thanks for the gesture. After a year he should have known the man-child he calls his boyfriend better than that, but it seems today, that fact slipped his mind.

"These. On my plate." 

Altaïr gives up the poking and stabs the fork completely through one of the eggs and waves it in Malik's direction, as though that would help Malik understand his confusion. It doesn't. Instead, the gesture causes his irritation to grow and prompts Malik to slap Altaïr's hand away. The action nearly causes the egg to come off of the fork, but Altaïr manages to catch it in time before it can get very far. Malik gets far too angry when there’s a mess and while normally he can deal with it, he is hardly in the mood at eight in the morning.

"What do they look like? They're eggs. They are meant for eating, not playing. We had them for breakfast yesterday, too. Unless you’ve suffered a recent blow to the head that I am unaware of, that should have been obvious."

Altaïr scowls although Malik is back to looking at his newspaper instead of him and he pushes the plate away from him. The eggs smelled and they didn’t look very appetizing. How he could be expected to eat this was beyond him.

“These are not the kind of eggs I eat. You know that. Do you really expect me to eat these?”

And now it’s Malik’s turn to scowl. Altaïr saved himself from a fight over making a mess, but he’s doing a poor job of not starting one for other reasons.

“If you do not like what I make, you are free to make your own breakfast. You know how to cook, you know where everything is. I am not wasting my time making two different things because you are too much of a child to eat your eggs in any form that isn’t scrambled. Or better yet, you can go back to your apartment where I will not be able to hear your whining when you do not get what you want.”

“You’ve never had a problem making scrambled eggs before.” Malik just rolls his eyes. He’s done encouraging Altaïr to continue by responding to him. “What about Kadar? Do you expect him to eat these?”

Well, he managed to keep silent for a good five seconds, at least.

“If he does not want to eat them, he can go with you to your apartment where you both can make your own eggs and stop pestering me.”

“I am not _pestering_ you.”

“Then what would you call it?”

The answer doesn’t come in the form of words or any sort of audible sound. Instead, Altaïr decides that throwing one of the eggs on his plate at Malik would be a better idea. Malik manages to catch the egg before it hits him in the face, but his surprise causes him to grab it with more force than necessary and he squishes the egg before he can even think of throwing it back to Altaïr. Malik grimaces, opening his hand to look at the remains of the egg in disgust and looks to Altaïr to send a glare his way. He’s got a smug smirk on his face and he’s trying hard not to laugh at Malik despite the glare he’s receiving. Malik’s blood boils at the sight of it and he wonders how he’s managed to survive a year together with this infuriating, childish man.

Then again, it takes a childish person to know a childish person and Malik’s next actions certainly did nothing to speak to his maturity levels. Malik’s steps are slow, calculated and the look on his face is menacing at best, downright terrifying at worst. Altaïr has half a mind to run, run and make his own breakfast, and maybe make Malik’s, too for the next six years. But he doesn’t. Altaïr has never been one to run from a challenge and now is no different. He remains seated, watching as Malik gets ever closer, that crushed egg still in his hand. He has a feeling he knows what’s coming next and he moves to grab one of the other eggs on his plate to use as a defense should the need arise, but he’s too slow.

At the last second, Malik pounces, straddling him, and shoving his hand down Altaïr’s shirt and pressing the egg pits into his skin. The feeling is disgusting and he attempts to shove Malik off of him, but his efforts do nothing.

“You wanted scrambled eggs, now this is scrambled.”

Malik stays in place for another thirty seconds before finally, _finally_ he removes himself and his hand. The egg sticks to his chest, but he’s got other things to worry about. Once Malik’s back is turned to go back to his seat on the other side of the table, Altaïr takes his chance. He grabs an egg from his plate and crushes it in his hand quickly, using his other hand to grab at the waistband of Malik’s pants to pull him closer so that he can shove his own newly scrambled egg inside, even going so far as to get it in his underwear. 

“You’re a child, Altaïr!”

“You started this!”

“You are proving my point! And do not think for a second that I am making you a second breakfast. If you want anything else you will either make it yourself or find some way to eat what you’ve ruined.”

Neither of them says anything after that and the room is mostly silent with the exception of the occasional noise from the animals. For at least five minutes all they do is glare at each other, waiting for the other to make a move and give up on this ridiculous glaring contest. It’s Malik who ends it, looking over at the clock and grumbling about how he’d be late for class now that he has to take a second shower. His scowl deepens when he feels some of the egg falling down his pant leg. It doesn’t feel pleasant and there is still plenty stuck in his underwear. Later on, he’ll kill Altaïr, for now, he’ll settle for removing his pants and throwing them at Altaïr.

“You got egg on them, you can wash them.”

He knows Altaïr won’t do it. If Altaïr doesn’t want to do something, he doesn’t do it, and he most certainly won’t want to wash Malik’s pants for him. He turns away immediately, not intending to stick around and watch Altaïr’s reaction and finding it to be no surprise when he hears his pants being thrown to the floor. He’ll deal with them later. He has other things he needs to take care of now. Or he has things he intends to take care of. The finger hooking itself into the waistband of his underwear and pulling him back apparently has other intentions. The action causes more egg to shift and fall down his leg and he turns to face Altaïr again to glare at him once more.

"What? I do not have time for more of your games."

But an answer never comes. Instead, Altaïr pulls Malik closer and into a kiss-- rough and hard and distracting, but only for a moment. Malik pushes him away after only a second, still glaring at the other man, despite Altaïr's obnoxious smirk.

"Have you gone deaf? I do not have time for your games."

Malik is about to turn away again, walk back into his room and wash off so he can finally leave to get on with his business, but again Altaïr has other plans. He pulls Malik back once more and pushes him onto the table, smirk still in place as he stares down at Malik.

"This will be how you make up to me for not making the right kind of egg."

"How I--"

Malik's protests are cut off as Altaïr kneels in front of him, dragging Malik's underwear down with him. Really, Malik should feel lucky. Altaïr doesn't kneel for anyone for any reason, but he's willing to do it now if it'll make him shut up and forget about his ridiculous anger. It's Altaïr that should be angry. Malik knows that he won't eat eggs any other way, and yet for some reason he decided to ignore that today. There are still bits and pieces of the egg Altaïr had shoved down Malik's pants stuck to his skin and Altaïr takes the liberty of licking them off for Malik, whose silence he takes as encouragement. Or he means to take it as encouragement until Malik unceremoniously kicks him away and onto the floor.

" _I_ will not be making up for anything. If anything, you should be the one attempting to make up for throwing such a childish fit over what type of eggs are on your plate. I've said this before and I will say it again. This is not your house, it is mine. If I want to make something for breakfast I will make it and if you want to eat anything at all while you are here, you will like it or you will leave."

Malik take the time between his words and Altaïr's response to get off the table and push Altaïr into the spot that was once his. He's quick to remove Altaïr's shirt, and leaning over to lick off the remaining pieces of egg from his chest. Most of it has already fallen, but that doesn't discourage Malik from continuing. Even when the last of the food is gone he continues, adding bites that are none too gentle and licking over them.

Altaïr's only sounds are semi-restrained hisses whenever Malik bites, but Malik is well aware that he's getting to Altaïr in exactly the way he'd hoped to do to Malik. And Malik didn't even need to resort to teasing almost-blowjobs to do it. Altaïr should have seen this coming. Malik knows exactly how to turn the tables to make it so that he has the control. If it's sex Altaïr wants, it's sex he'll get-- but it'll be on Malik's terms, just as breakfast in this house is.

"Didn't you say you had no time for this? You hardly seem to be in any rush now."

Malik rolls his eyes and bites one last time before straightening out to look at Altaïr while he speaks.

"I have some new business to attend to now. Just a minute ago you were all too willing to allow me to miss my class, why the sudden change of heart?"

It's Altaïr's turn to glare now. He doesn't feel the need to dignify that with an actual response and he is well aware that Malik was not actually looking for one, anyway. He doesn't really feel like continuing in this way, but he's the one who started this game and he'll be the one to finish it whether Malik likes it or not. He pulls Malik back down over him and gets his shirt off so that Malik is completly naked and he almost considers it a small victory that he still has his pants and underwear on while Malik has nothing, but that changes quickly. For only having one hand to work with, Malik has gotten surprisingly quick at removing Altaïr's clothes.

Once clothes are no longer a distraction it's back to fighting for control, this time through rough, biting kisses as they grind against each other in harsh, frantic movements. The table creaks under their weight and the intensity of their actions, but they pay no mind to it and continue. They're too busy fighting to see who will be the one to actually fuck the other to care about what the table can and can't stand.

Of course, the same way they don't care about what the table can do, the table doesn't care about what they are currently doing and it isn't long before it gives out and sends them toppling to the floor. They glare at each other and rub at the spots where they will be sure to have bruises and bumps thanks to their less than gentle fall onto the tile floor, but in seconds their right back to their fight for dominance.

It's Malik who finally wins when, much to Altaïr's annoyance, he stops without warning to walk to the cupboard to pull out the bottle of lube kept in their. Malik learned long ago that if Altaïr is going to spend any nights here, it's best to always have it in every room somewhere. The man has almost no control whenever he's in the mood and more often than not, Malik isn't exactly looking to stop him. They could fuck dry if they really wanted to-- it's tolerable and still satisfying in the end, but both would always prefer it when there was some sort of lubricant in use and it's with this knowledge that Malik managed to gain control.

But by this point, Altaïr is past the point of caring and his only reaction is the demand that Malik get on with it. And Malik does just that. He applies the lube where it's needed and guides himself in and once that is all done, the rest of their control is lost.

Their movements are far from being smooth. Malik's thrusts are quick and hard and jerky at best, but the way Altaïr pushes up against him isn't much better. They're so far gone already that it only takes them a few minutes before they both go over the edge. Altaïr grabs onto Malik so hard that he's sure there will be indents from his fingers and nails for weeks to come and Malik's own fingers burn from the friction thanks to the grip he's using to steady himself and the way his fingers move against the tile with every thrust as they ride out their orgasm.

There's a good minute before either of them moves again once they finish and an even longer time before anything is said. Malik lets himself fall on top of Altaïr, not caring if he's crushing him, but it doesn't matter. Altaïr doesn't seem to mind and just continues to hold Malik against him. The next time they move it's to finally get off the floor and clean up their mess. They leave the table laying where it fell. It's broken and likely won't stand up right again, anyway. It's probably a better idea to leave it there until they throw it out than to try and mess with it and break it any more than they already have.

"Still going to your class?"

Malik snorts and rolls his eyes. Leave it to Altaïr to break the silence by being a smartass.

"It is already too late for it to make any sense for me to go now. But don't think I won't have you make up for making me miss it. And it will be a far less enjoyable price than this."

"I look forward to it."

Malik throws one of the eggs originally meant for Kadar at Altaïr in response.


End file.
